


the body, whose language is hunger—

by smallredboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Body Paint, Domestic, M/M, Post-Fall (Hannibal)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27197986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Hannibal attempts to paint on Will.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 28
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020, Genprompt Bingo Round 17





	the body, whose language is hunger—

**Author's Note:**

> **fffc's 100th special:** painting  
>  **gen prompt bingo:** ritual marks and body decorations
> 
> enjoy!

Hannibal spends his time painting on Will's back.

He's not used to it, always been a bigger fan of the pencil. Brushstrokes are too broad for his tastes, but he tries his best to make it right as Will lets himself be his canvas.

It's a bit tender, he supposes. To press the brush against his lover's skin, drawn in shapes with no meaning, at least no meaning he's found just yet. It comes out of him with no problem; he's always one for hyperrealism, but Will makes him feel like being abstract for once in his life.

"What are you painting on me, exactly?" Will asks. "It tickles a bit."

Hannibal smiles, kisses the back of his neck. "I don't know," he says. "I am still figuring this out. Just lines, I suppose."

"Red paint?" Will jokes.

He looks down at his brush and the blood red paint on it. "How'd you know?"

"You want me to see covered in blood, Hannibal," he replies, a soft laugh leaving his mouth. "It's not exactly hard math to figure out what you could be possibly painting on me."

"It does not look like blood," he rebuffs. He's _trying_ , though, thick droplets cascading down Will's skin. It's a new art method, though, so he hasn't figured it out. It doesn't quite look like blood.

"Well, I'm sure that was your goal," he says.

"Shut up, darling," he replies.

They both share a laugh. It's good, he thinks, to have these little moments with Will now, after all that has happened between them. They have their scars and their hurts, from one another and from other people, but they have each other now.

As he paints with broad brushstrokes on Will's back, he knows that's all that matters.


End file.
